Trigger warning: suicide attempt
A letter to the student who survived a suicide attempt and came to get help at my clinic,
I don’t know your story, other than what I read in the triage nurse’s note. I didn’t come talk to you, instead monitored from a distance while the NP, nurse, medical director, and patient navigator coordinated care because I knew that soon enough you wouldn’t be allowed a moment alone. I also had a clinic to run with several other patients coming in with serious chief complaints all at the same time so I thought I couldn’t stop in.
But I wanted to.
I wanted to ask if I could sit with you, talk to you about something other than all the horrible thoughts going through your mind for the past however long. To try to stop the barreling train of “oh shit, what have I done?? I already can’t afford therapy and I sure as hell can’t afford to go to the ER or a psych hospital. How am I ever going to dig myself out of this now?? Why couldn’t it have just worked?”
Or maybe you do want to talk about it. To be able to finally say some of those things out loud to another human being.
I would have understood. Oh, you have no idea how much I would have understood.
I would have told you that I’ve weathered that same storm. Not in the same boat, I would never make that false comparison. I was incredibly lucky that my work even offered a part time position with benefits, let alone that one opened up right when I was at my most overwhelmed and that my insurance covered an intensive therapy program. But I too have looked at my life and felt in my bones that it wasn’t worth living anymore. Sometimes I still do, though those moments are much more fleeting and I know how to move through them now.
I would have commended your incredible bravery for coming in to seek help, for telling your story numerous times, for probably knowing that all the whispered conversations in the clinic were about you and yet you stayed where you would be safe and didn’t let shame tempt you to run away or attempt again.
I would have looked you in the eyes and said that you are meant to be alive and that we were going to get you the help you need. That it is going to be terrifying and hard but that someone would be with you every step of the way. That you don’t have to hold this alone.
I would have given you a hug if you wanted it. Held your hand if you wanted. Or just gently witnessed while you shook or cried or just sat silently exhausted.
Please know that even though you didn’t meet me, I’m thinking of you tonight. I hope you’re able to rest and maybe, just maybe, even feel safe and supported for the first time in a while.
I believe that you will feel joy again, that you will find an anchor to this world to steady you when those insidious thoughts creep in, that you will heal. That you’ll someday believe how strong and wonderful and worthy you are.
I will be looking to see your name on a graduating class list someday.